


From the edge of the deep green sea

by maraudorable (violentthunder)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Compliant, Get Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Road Trips, White Cliffs of Dover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentthunder/pseuds/maraudorable
Summary: A road trip, old memories, and two friends in love. Sirius and Remus take a short trip to the cliffs and talk.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 27
Kudos: 69
Collections: The Candy Hearts Challenge





	From the edge of the deep green sea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [goodboylupin](https://goodboylupin.tumblr.com/)’s Candy Hearts Challenge.

The radio stopped working an hour ago.

Remus is looking ahead at the road and humming one of the last songs they heard, something about Thursdays and Fridays and being in love, and Sirius thinks this song is entirely too cheerful for such a dreary day. It’s been raining on and off since they left London—slightly more than a drizzle, not yet full-on rain, but enough to make them not want to stop and stretch their legs, even after two hours in Remus’s mum’s tiny old car.

They’re risking everything by leaving Grimmauld Place, Sirius knows this, but he tries to concentrate on his own arguments he presented to Remus less than a week ago: they’re taking a muggle car, going on muggle roads, and, unlike Apparition and Portkeys, the Ministry doesn’t have the jurisdiction to track these. Remus agreed all too readily; whether it was because he took pity on Sirius or because he was never good at saying no to him, Sirius doesn’t know, but he suspects it could be both.

“Thank you for doing this,” Sirius says, just to stop dwelling on the thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. There’ll be plenty of time for that later, back at Grimmauld. “I know I’ve been a sad case lately, but you didn’t have to—”

“Don’t be silly,” Remus interrupts, and glances at him with that soft smile, the one that was one of the last good memories Sirius still had in Azkaban, careful to only think about when he put on the dog lest he be robbed of it too. He has remembered many more things since then, the good almost outweighing the bad by now, even tipping the scale on his clearer days, but he still cherishes this smile the most.

“I’m doing this for myself as well,” Remus adds. “I told you my parents got engaged there. They went almost every year to celebrate, first with me, then without, after I went to Hogwarts. They sent me pictures—do you remember?—they looked so happy in them. They were in love.” The longing in Remus’s voice makes Sirius’s heart ache. “I’ve always dreamt of going back there one day, with someone I—well, with a good friend.”

Sirius looks at him. There’s a pink blush creeping up his neck—Moony was never one to hide his embarrassment well, especially not from him—and Sirius knows, knows what he almost said instead. They don’t talk about love. Not when it comes to them. They didn’t talk about love fifteen years ago, when tensions ran high and passions even higher, and they don’t talk about it now. Love is for people with dreams and hopes and a future, not two young old men living on borrowed time.

The rain starts in earnest now, and Sirius leans his head on the window, closes his eyes against the pitter-patter of raindrops on the glass and doesn’t say anything.

He remembers the only other time he’s been in this car. The summer after their fifth year, he came to Wales to spend some time with Remus, and one sunny Saturday his parents took them to the nearest town. He remembers sitting in the backseat, his already long frame cramped uncomfortably in the narrow space, and he remembers how much it didn’t matter: Moony was sitting next to him, his usually white legs lightly tanned and clad in shorts, fine hair on his arms bleached golden by the sun, faint freckles scattered all over his face and peeking out from under the collar of his t-shirt. Sirius didn’t know where to look, so he looked everywhere. He thought his fascination with Remus’s skin had to do with the simple joy of seeing his friend looking healthy and carefree.

If he rummages through his memories, he can also remember looking at Remus’s parents—his mum behind the wheel and his dad next to her on her left, where Sirius is sitting now. They were talking about their plans for the rest of the summer and laughing, and when Sirius caught the fond look Mr Lupin was giving his wife, he thought about whether he would ever find that himself or if maybe he’d already found it in his friends, seeing how happy he was that summer with Remus. He was a fool.

Remus touches his arm softly and says, “We’re here.” Sirius opens his eyes, just now realising the car has stopped—he must’ve dozed off. He can see the leaden glimmer of water behind Remus’s head, feels the salty air sharp on his tongue.

Neither of them leaves the car. It’s not raining anymore, but there are two big raindrops rolling down the still-wet windshield, their shadows like tears on Remus’s cheek, and Sirius’s fingers itch to wipe them away. He wants to cradle Remus’s face in his hands, kiss it all over, press it into his shoulder, make sure there are never any tears on it, real or otherwise. _Good friend_ , he thinks bitterly.

“It’s really muddy out, the path is washed out,” Remus says, and Sirius sees the apology on his face before his mouth even forms the words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would rain all—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts. He acutely feels that if he doesn’t get out of the car right now, he’s going to say something he shouldn’t, like _don’t you want to be with me, Remus?_ , or do something reckless, like put his mouth on Remus’s neck and his hand under his jumper, and he doesn’t know which option terrifies him more. He looks away. “It’s better than staying in that house. It’s barely been three weeks, and I’m already losing the plot.”

“I tried to talk Dumbledore into letting us stay at the cottage longer, but... I’m sor—” Remus stops before he can finish and chuckles. “You know, we sure apologise an awful lot, for people like us.”

“Yes, for two good friends, we sure do,” Sirius says with a bite, and regrets it instantly. He wishes he’d gone with the other option.

He looks back at Remus and tries to tell him with his face that he didn’t mean it. There’s no hurt in Remus’s eyes, but he’s also not saying anything, just wordlessly charms both of their boots to stay dry, if Sirius can guess correctly from the wand movement, and leaves the car.

Sirius curses himself and follows him.

The fresh smell of rain and saltwater, the endless sky, the lush green all around him engulf his senses, almost overwhelming him. He briefly considers putting on the dog but doesn’t want to miss out on anything, so he goes after Remus until they reach the edge, careful not to come too close to it.

Once there, Sirius remembers seeing this place in pictures. Tall, chalky white cliffs, majestic in their stillness and permanence, stand out proudly against the ever-changing backdrop of the sky and the ocean, mercurial twins currently shrouded in greys. In the pictures, no matter the weather, Remus’s parents were always smiling, their arms around each other: moments of happiness frozen in time. Sirius wishes he had a camera with him, even Remus’s old muggle one, though it’s not like either of them would look as happy—not after what Sirius said, not after the way he’s been lately.

The jagged black line of the rocky coast below looks like spilled ink against the white of the waves. Sirius looks at them and tries to breathe with each wave, _one_ , _two_ , _three_. He tells himself he’ll count to ten and turn to Remus, apologise, talk, make amends and promises he’ll try to keep, but when the tenth wave comes, he decides to wait ten more and immediately chastises himself for being a coward. He was never like this before.

Without waiting any longer, he turns his head to look at Remus, only to find him looking at him already, his face soft and gentle. The tenderness Sirius feels crashes over him with an intensity strong enough to compete with the waves below crashing over the shore. Remus brushes his hand against Sirius’s and gives him a small smile, and just like that, Sirius knows. _It’s okay._

Remus turns to look at the ocean. “When I was small, my dad told me I could see France from here if I looked hard enough, so I’d stand here straining my eyes and never seeing anything while my parents stole kisses behind my back.” He hums as if deep in thought. “I think the weather was just never good enough.”

Sirius smiles, follows Remus’s line of sight and sees nothing but a very vague outline of the horizon, or what he thinks is the horizon, where the sky meets the ocean. He’s not even sure where one ends and the other begins. “Yeah, I think I can see it.”

“Not on a gloomy day, you can’t!” Remus laughs, an easy, light-hearted sound Sirius hasn’t heard often since they moved into Grimmauld. He wants to keep making him laugh.

He wants... a lot of things. He wants to be a good friend for Remus, but he also wants so much more. He knows Remus wants it too, can tell by the lingering touches, the too-long looks, by the things he says and the things he keeps to himself. They’ve been through all this before.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline of standing at the edge of a cliff, maybe it’s the salty air finally freshening up his senses after the stuffiness of Grimmauld Place, but Sirius suddenly realises he doesn’t want to play these games anymore. He turns to look at Remus, faces him fully this time, feels his hair whipping around his face in the wind. He brings his hand up to cradle Remus’s face. “Moony, I—”

Remus leans into it and moves his head just so, presses his lips to Sirius’s palm but doesn’t kiss it. His jaw is trembling slightly—or maybe it’s Sirius’s hand.

“I know,” Remus says quietly. His eyes look solemn. “Me too.”

“No, no, Remus, I...” Sirius takes a deep breath and concentrates on Remus’s face, lets it ground him. “I need you to hear this. I love you. Please don’t mind that my voice sounds a bit desperate—you’re only the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m just a... I love you, and I need you to know.”

Remus closes the short distance between them and kisses him sweetly, almost tentatively, and Sirius feels so light he wouldn’t be surprised if the next gust of wind picked him up and threw him into the ocean, so he puts his arm around Remus’s waist and holds on. He dares deepen the kiss, and it’s awkward, both of them trying to do the same thing at the same time, but it doesn’t matter.

The waves are crashing over the rocks, the ocean breeze is laying the grass flat, and Remus is smiling into the kiss and whispering, “Me too, me too.” There is a real tear rolling down his cheek now, and this time Sirius wipes it away with his thumb.

**Author's Note:**

> You can, in fact, see France from the White Cliffs of Dover on a clear day :)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://maraudorable.tumblr.com/).


End file.
